Big girls don't cry,
Then why does my eye,
Cry all the time?
It's been quite a climb,
Since I was born.
My brain is utterly worn.
I'm a bit of a wise guy.
I'll hit it right in the bullseye,
With my advise,
I'll offer it twice.
If you should take it,
I'm sure you'll make it,
Into life,
Without rife.
But who shall save me?
From this lock and key?
All this drama,
And all this karma?
No one is there,
To save me from despair,
And to keep these thoughts,
That have my brain in knots,
Out of my mind.
They are eternally mine.
As I turnover,
My life of a pushover,
I begin to realize,
Beyond my disguise.
I am so small,
Maybe I wasn't a big girl after all.
